


To Open Doors, to Tear Down Walls

by katabulo, Muspell



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, OtaYuri Week, OtaYuri Week 2017, rivals au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9848723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katabulo/pseuds/katabulo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muspell/pseuds/Muspell
Summary: Otayuri Week Day 6 - Rivals AUYuri is stuck in an elevator with the worst person he can think of to be in a confined space with.Well, fine, it's not JJ. It's just Otabek. The second worst person, then.The battle of the wills is starting sooner than he expected.





	

The idea started forming in his head as soon as he heard the bastard has reached the GPF again. Yuri wants to see that jackass Otabek Altin  to mop the floor with him one more time, just as he did in Barcelona. 

There has been a subtle war going on between them since the last Grand Prix, taunting each other subtly on Instagram back and forth. They don’t need to tag each other: the day Yuri took a photo with a guy’s leather jacket on at the rink and saw Altin posted one like it a few hours later, he knew it was a call to arms. And he’s not one to lose a battle. 

Even though he won’t ever admit how good the photo turned out. The sun kissing Otabek’s tanned skin, making his pitch black leather jacket contrast with the bright black and chrome of his bike. The buildings of Almaty reflecting on the lenses of his shades. He looked like a bad boy straight out of  _ Grease, _ with the bleachers as a background. And Yuri will most definitely never admit he actually felt the need to save the picture. 

And he hasn’t erased it yet. 

He’s certain Otabek does not deserve to know that. The fact that the guy is incredibly hot and a great, powerful skater makes Yuri grit his teeth every time he so much hears his name. He can’t even stand being in Otabek’s presence. Skating against him not only gives Yuri the opportunity to actually defeat him, but also brings into the table the possibility of an actual battle of the wills. 

Sure, he’s much more impulsive and hotheaded than the stoic Hero of Kazakhstan, damn him, but Yuri plans to take the matter into his hands and break that blank mask of his. Piss him off for once. For real. 

This is his time to shine: He’s even put up with JJ’s stupid rantings on the hotel lobby after breakfast and only told him to fuck himself with his own skates once. He’s proud of his own restraint. He had a lot of choice words for JJ, but he’d simply walked away. 

Well, he might have said some of them.

It could have gone much much worse, okay?

He waits almost desperately for the elevator on his room floor to meet Viktor and Katsudon and go sightseeing. Truly, repressing himself doesn’t help his nerves. 

The second the door opens he rushes in as if it were about to close forever, and presses the fifth floor button. He’s sure Viktor has changed into about ten outfits by now and is still not ready, so he’d rather go straight to their room instead of waiting in the lobby and risking crossing paths with JJ again.

Or Otabek. He still has no idea how to proceed on his plan. He just wants to see him react. His blank stare puts Yuri on edge. 

  


“In a hurry?” Yuri jumps when he hears the low voice behind him, and turns slowly: Otabek Fucking Altin has snuck up on him somehow and is staring down at him now. Slightly amused, if Yuri’s seeing correctly, most likely because he’s still clutching the metal wall behind him as if-

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You piece of shit, don’t do that!”

Otabek scoffs and falls back into silence, planning to ignore Yuri completely now that he’d had his fun. There isn’t long left until the finals; he can’t waste time humouring the brat. 

As entertaining as it is to leave snarky comments on Yuri’s Instagram photos (especially when they end up being the only comments Yuri responds to), actually speaking to the skater is utterly exhausting. He’s never sure just how far is too far. The guy simply has no social skills.

Otabek isn’t much better, admittedly, but he knows how to have a conversation without threatening physical violence, at least. Yuri is awful. Otabek sometimes wonders what he’s like without that aggressive wall masquerading as, ‘the Russian Punk.’

He doesn’t look up when the elevator jolts to a stop, busy playing with his keycard. The light tells them that they’re still on the fourth floor. Must be Yuri’s stop.

Does he really need to take the elevator to head down two floors?

“Hey, what the fuck?!” Otabek lifts his head, expecting Yuri to be shouting in his face, but the blond skater isn’t looking at him. He’s busy kicking the doors of the elevator brutally. “Open up, you useless hump of metal!”

Oh, no. Which gods has Otabek pissed off enough to trap him inside a tiny elevator with the most obnoxious, bad tempered athlete of the generation?

“Is this your fault?!” Yuri rounds on Otabek. “You’re right next to the buttons! What did you do, asshole?!”

“What?” Otabek narrows his eyes. “Why would I purposely try to get stuck with  _ you _ of all people?”

“I don’t know, maybe you wanted me defenceless or some shit.” Yuri steps into Otabek’s already limited space. “Eliminate the competition, eh, loser?”

Otabek rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to do that this year.” He shoulders his way past Yuri to reach the emergency button. Typical of Yuri; whine and whine and let someone else resolve the situation for him.

“Hello, who is calling?” a woman’s voice sounds from the speaker.

“Your mom is calling, now get us the fuck-!” Otabek covers Yuri’s mouth, before the woman decides to leave the insolent child here, as a time out.

“The elevator is broken. We can’t get out,” says Otabek. Thankfully, the woman does her job and takes in exactly where they were. 

“The elevator isn’t responding from our end, unfortunately. We’ll have to send someone over.”

“Okay.” Yuri muffles something into Otabek’s hand, but he’s not to be trusted. “When will they be here?”

“I’m afraid the headquarters is a drive away, sir, but it will not be long.”

“Give me a time,” insists Otabek.

“I would say… fifteen? Fifteen to thirty minutes.”

Otabek takes a deep breath, letting Yuri try to scream at the woman (who has most likely muted him, she’s not replying). Half an hour in the same, cramped space as Yuri? Hopefully he will manage. Even with a lack of signal, there must be something Yuri could do on his phone. A game or whatever.

Yuri realises he’s getting nowhere and slumps down. “Half an hour with the most boring person on the planet,” he mutters. Otabek desperately ignores the way soft lips jut out in a pout.  “...Well, at least you’re quiet.”

“Wish I could say the same,” shoots back Otabek. Yuri snarls and flips him off, but even he’s not ready to start a physical fight in such a tight space.

The silence only lasts about a minute.

“Why the fuck isn’t this phone working?!” Yuri frantically tries to hold every button at once. “Don’t fucking show me a dead battery, bitch! I charged you! You were plugged in all night!”

“You can’t use your phone? Is this the end of Yuri Plisetsky?” Otabek mocks him, not feeling sorry in the slightest.

“Shut the fuck up and go back to your Nokia Brick or whatever you use,” snaps Yuri. He groans loudly, finally giving up. “Fuck, do something! Say something! I’m bored out of my mind here!”

“You lost your phone ten seconds ago.” Yuri really did spend his life on that thing, didn’t he?

“Well, ten seconds of nothing but you around is ten seconds too long already.” Yuri spits out and turn for the door, kicking it loudly in the process. The clank of metal echoing all around the tiny space makes both wince, but he’s not about to stop. Until he hears something. 

It sounds like little children. At least two of them. 

“Oi!” his throat start feeling rasp and dry; he pauses for a second to catch his breath. Otabek moves forward, pressing his hands on the door metal sheets. 

“Kids, which floor are you on?” He’s yelling, but even then he makes it sound polite and collected. Even trapped inside a fucking tin can hanging on the air and completely still. The fucker. Yuri unconsciously grits his teeth.

Otabek can’t help but shoot a concerned glance over at Yuri. Sure, the guy’s been shouting a lot, but Otabek would rather like Yuri to not die here in this elevator. However, the children are his priority. He doesn’t want them to lose patience and wander off before they’ve found someone who can help.

There’s a faint ‘five’ followed up by more giggling. Maybe they’re more. Three, four kids? One of them is a girl for sure. The details make Yuri forget the deep shit he’s in. 

Then he notices. Five.  _ That’s Viktor’s floor. _

He almost shoves Otabek against the door in the rush of getting as close to the voices as possible before they get bored and walk away. “Hey, brats!!” Otabek is looking bitterly at him now, he knows, but he can’t care enough to turn around right now. “Bang on the door 416! Go!”

More giggles. 

“Now!”

“Yuri, you should probably be a bit more polite with the people that could take us away from here.” Otabek stares, no,  _ glares  _ at him, holding Yuri’s shoulder to get his attention. Forcefully. 

Yuri tries hard not to wince. “Let me go!” he shrugs Otabek off. The older man just stares at him, one brow corked up. Yuri hates that: the ‘I dare you do something about it’ face. It’s almost the only expression he does besides ‘emotionally constipated asshole’. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Then he hears it. The chanting. 

_ Two boys, two boys _

Fucking kids.

_ Sitting in a lift _

How dare they.

_ K I S S I N G  _

“Go look for fucking Viktor for fuck’s sake or I’ll climb out of this shit and run you over with my ice skates on!” He’s had enough of that shit for a lifetime after some of his fans started than damn hashtag on Instagram. Fuck  _ Otayuri.  _ He’s not falling so low than to date a fucking irritating moron like Otabek Altin. No matter how hot he tries to be for the camera every time Yuri posts something. No matter how hot he looks now, despite everything. 

The fucking shitehead dares to look gorgeous even now, damn it. Yuri is not going to prove his Angels right. Ever. 

The children keep giggling, but their voices are drifting away. Because they’re off to find Viktor, hopefully. Otabek chuckles at something, probably Yuri’s red hot blush. The fucker. Yuri didn’t even know the guy could laugh: now it turns out he only does if Yuri’s the joke. 

“What are you laughing at?” He tries to sound as venomous as he can having in mind his throat already feels like it was covered in sandpaper. “You wish you’d get that lucky.”

Otabek goes back to his place against the wall and sits, stretching his legs on the elevator floor. “Lucky how? By letting run on me over with your skates?” 

Really, Otabek isn't all that bothered about the comments. His friends tease him enough, what are some strangers on the Internet going to add? Okay, their comments can be fairly… explicit, but there’s a use for that, too.

...Don’t think like that when Yuri is  _ right there,  _ Otabek.

Yuri leans on the wall right in front of him, and whips his hair out of his face, trying to look mean. “It’d be a fucking privilege for a lowlife like yourself.” 

He waits for a straight up insult. Some sort of sign of disgust on his face. Something. Something other than that fucking small mocking laughter. “You’re a little small to give me a papercut, don’t you think,  _ Russian Fairy _ ?” 

Yuri scoffs. Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve his attention. Still, he feels the rage bubbling up as Otabek’s words sink in. 

Russian fucking Fairy. He’s gonna have to have a talk with the fucking press. With his fists. 

And it only gets worse when he looks at him again just to see him leaning his head all the way back against the wall, sighing deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing softly up and down, his lips slightly parted, his eyes closed…

Yuri purposely bangs his head against the wall when he glances up, trying to avoid the guy. He’s a fucking idiot, he shouldn’t be so damn attractive.  It’s like a poison. It’s gonna murder him one day. 

Otabek keeps his breathing steady, almost meditative. He can tell Yuri’s fidgeting, probably out of restlessness. Otabek wouldn’t mind having a conversation to remove the uncomfortable atmosphere, but he doubts they would stay civil for long.

Does Yuri really have to sit like that, with his legs as wide open as he can manage…?

“The emergency panel.” The words come out of Yuri’s mouth without him noticing. He kicks Otabek’s legs to get a reaction and the guy just looks at him, like he’s been in this wretched place for days and not just a few minutes. “Come on, man, help me up!”

Otabek just runs a hand to his hair, slowly, exasperated. Yuri really needs to stop fucking staring at the douche. He’s blaming the confinement of the elevator; it must be driving him mad. “Why would I get such privilege?”

Yuri kicks him again and this time he gets an evil smirk out of him, “‘cause I’m too light to cause you any damage, remember? So lift me up!”

Otabek looks like he’s about to say something. He shuts his mouth again, and raises from the ground, offering his hands to Yuri as support. He takes the lead and props his knees up on Otabek’s shoulders when he feels the older guy’s hands encouraging him to go higher.

“Hold on, dude, what the fuck?” Does he really wants to throw him on the ground or what? 

Otabek takes his time to answer; thankfully, Yuri cheek is practically attached to the elevator ceiling, so he can’t see Otabek’s luminescent blush when he finds the words. “I’d just rather not have your crotch on my face for any longer than strictly necessary.” 

_ What the fuck? _ Yuri holds himself up with his arms against the cold metal, trying not to stutter the response. He feels his brain suddenly short circuited. “You fucking perv! It’s only a matter of survival, I’m trying to get us out of here!”

He feels the chuckle on Otabek shoulders more than he hears it. “.. do you tell everyone that?” 

“You perverted shit!” Yuri bangs on the panel so hard it lifts up; he props his elbows on the outside of the lift to look around, lifting his weight out of Otabek’s shoulders. The spite makes him keep talking, his voice echoing on the hollow elevator shaft. “I’m nothing like that!”

Otabek looks up, playful tone in his voice: “I know you’re not, who could even be such a daredevil to get close enough to someone like you?” Otabek’s heart is beating way too fast. Teasing aside, this isn’t fun. He’s going to lose his mind if he keeps looking up like this, but without Yuri’s weight on his arms, Otabek only has his eyes to check that Yuri’s safe.

At least Yuri’s not squirming on him anymore. Maybe Otabek really is a pervert.

Yuri hisses through his teeth: it sounds like a roar on the empty space, “Fuck you!!”

“Yurio?”

Both of them look up as if it was a voice from the heavens. Yuri knows it’s not.

Otabek is confused more than anything. Yurio? What kind of diminutive is that?

“Oi, geezer! Get me out of here!” Yuri bangs his fist on the metal sheet to make some noises to clarify his point. 

“Are you… are you locked in the lift?” Yuri is always impressed by Viktor’s rapid mental skills. 

“Well, YEAH YOU IDIOT! I’m here with Altin, take us out!” His voice is starting to break from all the shouting. He needs a fucking drink. And much less dust. 

He starts coughing. He misses the first part of the sentence.

“... well? Who’s Altin?” Yuri can’t tell what the hell he said before that, but he does sound like he’s having fun. 

Yuri’s most definitely not. “The irritating skater with the undercut! He was here last year too!”

“Oh! Which one?!” Otabek glares. Yes, okay, he has the same cut as JJ. Can the jokes stop one day? They’re nothing alike in all other aspects!

“What do you mean, which one?!”

“Is it the loud or quiet one?!”

“He’s talking about JJ,” explains Otabek. It’s nice of Yuri to not have made a connection between them, at least.

“Oh god, if it was JJ in here…!” Yuri sounds horrified. Otabek has to agree.

The itching from the dust above the elevator stops for a second; Yuri can understand Viktor perfectly this time: “Are you having a good time down there?”

“Wha-”

Yuri stumbles. He falls. Right on top of a startled looking idiot’s body. No, scratch that. Right on his fucking lap.

“What are you trying to do, moron? Boycotting the competition?” Yuri yells at his face, and yet Otabek seems to need some time to recollect his thoughts and answer. And it’s not even the answer he was expecting. 

“I’m, um… Yuri…” Otabek looks away, hands pressed on the floor, as if he’s trying to avoid contact at all costs. 

“Well? Speak!”

“You’re sitting on my crotch.”

Otabek is frozen. He can’t move now, as much as he wants to squirm away… it’s too risky. Yuri is right there.

Suddenly he’s not. Otabek groans, realising that he’s been shoved onto his back. What is this idiot up to…?!

“Don’t say it like that! What the fuck?! And it’s your fault for falling!”

Otabek doesn’t know what to do. Laugh, cry… he isn’t going to make a move. That… not while Yuri can’t leave. That’s just wrong.

“Yuri, just get off me.” He hopes Yuri can’t hear the plead in his voice.

Finally, thankfully, Yuri complies. At least Otabek’s wearing loose pants. He lifts his knees up when he rises to sit against the door anyway, just in case Yuri sees anything.

Otabek tries to steer the conversation anywhere else. “How long have we been in here?”

“I don’t fucking know, I don’t have the time on me,” replies Yuri. He’s completely avoiding Otabek’s eye, which is probably for the best.

“Ask him, then.” Otabek gestures up, where Viktor is still asking if everything is okay.

“Viktor, shut up, I’m fine!” yells Yuri. “What’s the time?!”

“Uh… about 5 past 11?”

“Fuck, how long is this gonna take?!” 

Otabek has to agree. It’s been 45 minutes! The woman said they should be out by now. Who knows how long it will actually take?

Yuri kicks the wall again for good measure, then sits down. Viktor hangs around for a bit, but Yuri seems done talking to him. Otabek supposes that it is a little awkward, but he does need to ask something.

He’s not feeling good.

“Excuse me? Mr. Nikiforov!” He isn’t sure how to address the legendary skater, he can't remember the man's patronymic, but that should work, right?

“Yes, playboy?” Yuri growls and mutters something under his breath, but Otabek isn’t interested in delving into whatever they’re talking about at the moment.

“Can you tell the guy in room 403 to come here? Leo de la Iglesia?” Otabek breathes a sigh of relief when Viktor agrees and runs off. Leo should be able to help him.

“Hey, I know Leo. He’s alright for an American, I guess,” says Yuri. Otabek rolls his eyes, but he’s trying to ignore Yuri for now.

Yuri’s not happy about that. “Hey, say something! Why do you want him here?!”

Otabek flinches when Yuri steps closer. “It’s none of your business.”

Yuri blinks and seems a little spooked by something. “Hey, you’re kinda pale, you know.” He gulps. “Y-You better not throw up here, asshole. I’m not dealing with that-”

“Yuri, get away from me.” Otabek’s voice is shaky, but deeper than usual. Yuri blanches at the change of tone and obediently shuffles away. Is he scared? Otabek hopes he isn’t, but at the same time, whatever keeps him out of Otabek’s space will do.

“Hey, Otabek! What have you gotten yourself into this time?!” Otabek relaxes a little at Leo’s voice coming from somewhere below the elevator. Okay. Just close his eyes and focus on him.

“Into a really small space,” Otabek replies.

There’s a pause, then, “Oh shit! You’re getting claustrophobic?! How long have you been in there?”

“A while. Almost an hour.” Otabek ignores the small gasp coming from within the cramped box. Yuri can figure it out on his own.

“Okay, you need me to talk?” Leo waits for Otabek to affirm, then sets off. He talks about his morning breakfast with Phichit and his date the night before with Guang Hong. At the same time, he claps out a steady, slow rhythm. Otabek can barely hear it, but that’s almost helpful in this case. The extra effort to listen means less time to remember his surroundings. He uses the claps to steady his breathing. Three claps to breathe in, four to breathe out.

He isn’t sure how long it is until he’s ready to open his eyes. By the time he does, Yuri is fidgeting, but his impatience is never a very good indicator.

“Leo?” Otabek calls out.

“Yeah? You’re feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Okay, that’s good. Listen, I’m gonna head back to my room to sort out some stuff. I’ll be back in maybe fifteen minutes? You think you’ll be good for that long?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, good luck soldier!” Otabek only heard a couple of footsteps before Leo was out of hearing shot.

There’s a pregnant pause as Yuri clearly wants to speak, but doesn’t know where to start. Otabek’s used to getting responses like that, but he supposes he should give Yuri some peace of mind.

“You don’t have to curl up like that. My personal space isn’t that sensitive,” says Otabek. Yuri huffs and stretches out (why do his jeans have to be so tight? It’s ridiculous), then asks:

“Why didn’t you just say you’re claustrophobic? You didn’t have to yell at me like a dick.”

Otabek supposes that Yuri has a point with that. “Sorry,” he concedes. “I wasn’t thinking properly.”

Yuri sighs and stretches his legs by placing them against the wall. Otabek rolls his eyes at the display of flexibility, but hell, he can’t look away for long. “So, now what? We talk to the woman again? Say we’ll sue if you get a nervous breakdown?”

“Don’t mock me,” snaps Otabek.

“I’m not mocking you. It’s a possible way to speed them up, that’s all.”

“It sounds like you’re mocking me.”

“Well, I’m not. Fuck, I wouldn’t make fun of shit like that!” Yuri turns to direct his whole attention to Otabek. “Do you have to take everything as a threat?”

“From you? Kinda. When have you not made fun of or insulted me?”

Yuri squawks. “I’m just reacting to you! What the fuck?! You’re the one who refused to give me a lift when I was being chased down by my fans!”

Otabek narrows his eyes. Right, last year in Barcelona. “That one was for the summer camp.”

“Eh? What?” Yuri looks genuinely confused, so Otabek obliges and gives him a reminder.

“Yakov’s summer camp, six years ago? When you loudly called me a loser in front of everyone, then told me to piss off?” If Yuri had said that now, Otabek would easily shrug in off. But as a child, being torn down by someone younger and much more talented than him? It had hurt, so badly. He’d practically begged his mother to let him return to Almaty, but she refused to let her money be wasted because of his childish emotions.

“I don’t remember that,” says Yuri. “...Also, you really hold a grudge, huh?”

“I would’ve left it at that, but no. You had to one up me after the Final, didn’t you?”

Right. Yuri couldn’t forget that one. He surely wishes he had. But there was something in him that demanded blood for some reason: Katsudon’s retiring, Viktor coming back, himself failing on what should have been his best performance on the ice so far… Then he saw him, stunningly beautiful (not that he’d ever said that out loud) even when he lost, because Otabek had lost, and he saw red. 

Otabek was probably there to congratulate him sincerely for once. Now that he thinks back on it, he didn’t look like he was about to mock him. Yuri should have seen that. He should have before the words slipped out of his mouth. “ _ You can’t even reach the podium even when your rival has a crisis on the ice, and you call yourself a skater?” _

And he hadn’t seen it then, he hadn’t noticed. But having Otabek next to him now, his lips pressed hard to stop the trembling, his brows furrowed to try and hide the obvious pain on his face, now he realizes. Yuri did hurt him back then. Deeply. 

If only he realized that sooner. 

Yuri’s said and done so much. But he hasn’t lived down that phrase yet. 

“...I spoke before I thought back then.” Otabek can think of a few comebacks for that, but he decides to leave it. The social media fight has exhausted him this year. It would be nice to put it to rest, finally. He hears a rumble.

The lights blink. Once. Twice. They go off.

Yuri kneels down, trying to follow the sudden gasp and the shallow breath that seems to echo on the complete silence of the lift. He presses a hand to Otabek’s thigh, the first trace of him he could find in the dark. He’s about to lower his hand down to the older man’s knee when it’s gripped tightly.

Otabek lets out a breath that sounds like a whimper. Or a sob? Otabek wouldn’t have an answer either.. He needs to get out, he needs to be outside  _ now. _ Where’s his bike? Where’s Yuri?!

“Hey! Hey, listen.” Yuri tries to guess where Otabek is; he still feels like he’s talking to the void. “Follow me, come on. Breathe in.” He squeezes Otabek’s leg. “Breathe out.” He lets it go. 

In between breaths Yuri can hear the broken voice trying to pull off a phrase. He knows if he talks now, the guy is gonna close in on himself again. And probably have a heart attack or something. He can’t deal with that. Fuck it, the guy might be insufferable but Yuri is still worried. 

“I… Just…” Breathe in. Breathe out. A thud on the metal wall, most likely Otabek’s head resting on it. “I just wanted to get close to you.”

…Why did Otabek just say that? He’s embarrassing himself.

“Just keep breathing.” Close? Trying to do everything Yuri did but better? Even Instagram photos? That’s quite a way to get close to someone. Yuri tries not to chuckle, but it’s stronger than him. “You have quite a way to make an impression.”

“I mean…”Every pause in the dark feels eternal; Yuri would love to guess Otabek’s expressions right now. For some reason, he sounds like he’s smiling. Is that even possible? “When we were kids.”

“Can’t you just let that go? I was a  _ kid.” _

“You were the best there.” His own breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t even notice when Otabek’s thumb starts drawing small circles on the back of Yuri’s hand. It’s soothing.”Easily. I was too bad to even be with the kids my own age.” Otabek laughs. A sad laugh, somehow. Yuri doesn’t know if he’s actually noticing this or his brain is trying to make up  for the lack of body language. “I just wanted to prove you wrong. You were the perfect soldier: fierce, determined…” A shuffle. “I guess I’m still a loser, huh?”

“You’ve gotten this far down. Twice. In a row.” Yuri doesn’t even know why he’s kissing the guy’s ass when he hated him a couple of hours ago. But there’s some sort of a new light on him. Maybe he didn’t give him the chance. Maybe he had something to prove, too. “You’re definitely something.”

Chuckle. Squeeze. “Yes, Yura, I’m a human being.” Otabek needs something to get his pride back. Even if Yuri doesn’t seem to be currently rejecting him. Otabek’s not sure where this is all going, but it’s definitely distracting him from his panic, which is more than he could ask for, really.

“I don’t mean that, you idiot.” Deep breath. What the fuck does he mean? “You don’t have the kind of training we do, you’re different. Powerful. Exotic. New.” Yuri has no idea where he’s going but he allows himself to ramble. He just hopes there is a point somewhere. “With Yuuri’s step sequence and JJ’s technical points I can count on: I know what they’ll do to try and defeat me. You are... I don’t know, just new.” He sits and leans against the wall without letting go of Otabek’s leg. “I couldn’t keep my eyes away from your programs on the NHK.” 

Silence. Was it too much? Must have been too much. Yuri is not good with words, he never was. Why was he even trying?

“Sounds like bullshit to me.” Otabek’s laughing. He definitely is. Yuri snaps.

“It is  _ not _ . Your combinations are breathtaking. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time!” 

Why is he even telling him this? Why does he need to justify himself to the likes of  _ him _ just because he happens to be scared? No, fuck this. He’s not talking anymore. 

Otabek feels a lump in his throat. That feeling of ineptitude, insecurity… he can ignore it most of the time, but when faced with someone so admirable, so naturally talented as Yuri Plisetsky, it’s much more difficult. Yet, Yuri’s saying whatever he can to beat those emotions out of Otabek. Why?! What’s changed?

Has enough changed for Otabek to feel this hopeful?

“Yura.” Yuri feels something in the air, a rumble, a pulse. He turns his head to it. The faint scent of Otabek’s breath reaches him before he realizes what’s going on. 

Otabek wasn’t thinking straight anyway, but when his lips touch something warm and wet and soft, he loses all capacity for thought. Those are Yuri’s lips. Yuri’s sweet, full lips, an image that Otabek can perfectly replicate in his head.

He’s not kissing back. That’s probably an issue. But Otabek doesn’t think he’s moving either. They’re both resting there, silently. Awkwardly.

Otabek springs back with a choked gasp, but the walls aren’t about to close in on him anymore, which is useful. However, his emotions and adrenaline will take care of whatever’s left of him. Shit. This was a mistake. A really awful-

“Otabek?”

Yuri sounds painfully tense, but he’s not backing away just yet. “Yuri…”

“What the fuck was that?”

Otabek doesn’t know how to respond. Now isn’t the time to be a smartass, but anything other than,  _ That was a kiss, Sherlock, _ isn’t coming to Otabek.

Well, there is one thing. Maybe. It sounds awful and cheesy, but he doesn’t have a choice, it seems.

“I think… I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Otabek has his eyes closed. It’s easier than leaving them open and being aware that he can’t see a thing. At least like this, there’s the illusion of choice. But is it really a choice, when he wants nothing more than to see Yuri’s reaction? To see if he’s fucked up for good?

“You’re a fucking idiot if that’s true.”

Otabek can feel himself wilt. Yuri’s not happy.

“You could’ve done something other than be a massive dick.” Yuri tries not to let the tremor in his voice get too obvious. What the fuck was that? Why would he even do such a thing? 

Why did Yuri not stop him? Why the hell does he not want to?

“I was just responding to you.” They’re just repeating themselves now. Is there much point in talking, then?

“Fuck you!” Yuri grabs Otabek’s shirt, two large clumps, and pulls him forward. He must have adjusted to the dark by now. His lips latch onto Otabek’s perfectly.

Otabek responds quickly, wrapping one arm around Yuri’s waist. The other hand buries into long, soft hair. This feels good. Amazing, even. Something he could only ever imagine until now, reluctantly, in the middle of the night. He nips at Yuri’s lower lip, convincing him to open his mouth.

Their lips press firmly together, but Otabek stays gentle. Yuri’s soft breaths and moans are both surprised and appreciative. Is it his first kiss? It might be. Otabek hopes it’s a good one, at least.

Everything about Yuri is so delicate, yet firm, stubborn. The protruding shoulder blade that Otabek runs his fingers against. The feminine scent of the soap used to wash his clothes complementing the musky, strong cologne.

Otabek is lost in the pleasure of finally meeting Yuri halfway, something he always knew he wanted. He didn’t realise just how happy it would make him. The nagging thought in the back of his mind, that they need to talk, go on a date, is ignored.

Also ignored is the rumble of the elevator, descending to ground floor. The echoes of returning light behind his eyelids. Until it’s too late.

“Well, this is a surprise!”

Otabek has never heard a more sarcastic sentence in his life. He’s also never been more annoyed and upset to hear Leo. He’s standing there, externally cheerful, but Otabek knows that plotting stare. Leo won’t rest until he’s gotten every last detail from Otabek later.

The one standing next to him, however… Phichit Chulanont, right? He seems to have picked up his own details.

“Hey, hey, no fucking pictures! I saw your bullshit last year!” Yuri picks himself up sooner, running on rage. “Delete them now!”

“Eh?! Hey, I’m not gonna post-!”

“Bull-fucking-shit! You got 10 seconds to delete them, or your phone is history!”

“Okay, okay!” Phichit pouts, but he doesn’t seem that upset. He was probably expecting a reaction like that.

The phone is presented to Yuri, proving that the photos are gone. Yuri nods, then turns to Otabek, who’s still in a daze.

“Get up, idiot,” says Yuri, holding out a hand. Otabek takes it and has to hide his grin when Yuri doesn’t let go.

Leo and Phichit coo dramatically. “You guys gonna skip practice today?” asks Leo. “Have fun, now that you’ve made up!”

“Hey, who’s encouraging children to slack off?!” Viktor storms up to them, Yuuri in tow. “You know Yakov will kill me if I don’t drag you to the rink with me, Yurio!”

Yuri scowls. “Mind your own business, geezer.”

“Oh, what am I missing out on?” Viktor glances between the boys, his eyes sparkling.

“They’re going on a date!” declares Phichit.

“Hey!” cries Yuri. “Who the fuck do you think you- no-one said shit about that!”

He suddenly feels the hand on him lightening its grip, trying to slip off. Yuri looks up to see Otabek avoiding his gaze, subtly biting his lip. Staring at the American guy waiting for him. 

His hand closes on Otabek’s, intertwining his fingers. The guy has a special talent to be a pain in the ass and all, but he’s kind of nice too, isn’t he? He isn’t that much of an asshole after all. 

And he may still be scared shitless; Yuri knows it takes a while for Katsuki to forget an anxiety attack when he has them, that he needs a bit of... What does Viktor call it? Aftercare? 

No one else was around when it happened, so Yuri could probably help Otabek better than anyone. Yuri owes him that much at least, right? They’re in some kind of truce, finally. Signed in fear, and lust, and a kiss he’s been wanting for longer than he cares to admit. 

It’s not like it was a terrible one either. He could have more of those, Yuri thinks, as their glances meet. 

Otabek stiffens when Yuri turns his back deliberately, but is reassured with a grumbled, “Fuck practice. I’ll get up earlier tomorrow.”

Otabek grins and squeezes Yuri’s hand, which encourages the younger skater to storm ahead, purposely shoving Phichit out the way as he drags Otabek along. Phichit only giggles.

“Let’s just go to a cafe or something, I don’t give a fuck. I’m hungry.”

“Sure.” Once they’re outside, Otabek takes the lead, bringing Yuri round the back, to the hotel parking space.

“Allow me?” he offers, gesturing to his bike.

Yuri grins. He’ll never confess how he wanted to get on that bike since the day Otabek posted the picture of it. Or the fact that he still has that picture saved on a password protected folder on his phone. “This is the one you were posing with a couple days ago, right?”

“Yeah. Although, I guess that competition thing is over now?” Otabek hopes it is. This bike was very expensive to rent out. He doesn’t have many tricks left.

Yuri scoffs. “I’m not letting you get the last pic in.” He holds out his hand for Otabek’s mobile, which is given obediently. Yuri drags Otabek in for a selfie with the bike in view, enjoying how the sunlight reflects off his own blond hair and Otabek's eyes.

“There, post that. Then it’s over.”

Otabek smiles and hands over the spare helmet. “You ready to go?”

“Hm.  _ Davai. _ ”


End file.
